


He Keeps Me Warm

by Kika988



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Get Together, Huddling For Warmth, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 06:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18440813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kika988/pseuds/Kika988
Summary: He loses track of how long he lays there, but he eventually feels Shiro stirring. It happens slowly, a finger twitch against Keith's side, then a shift of his leg and a sharply indrawn breath. Shiro goes very still for a moment, and Keith wonders if Shiro is embarrassed. He keeps his eyes closed and breaths even, maintaining the illusion of sleep and giving Shiro an opportunity to slip away.Keith and Shiro take a much-deserved break, but an unexpected snowstorm means they have to reevaluate some of their plans.





	He Keeps Me Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zombietime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombietime/gifts).



> This is for [Elliott's](https://twitter.com/elliottjunkyard) 'huddling for warmth' request! Sorry it took so long!
> 
> Thanks to [perfectlyrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlyrose/pseuds/perfectlyrose) for the quick beta!

"Take a vacation, he said."

"Keith."

"It'll be fun, he said." 

" _Keith_." 

"We deserve some time off, he said." 

"We'd warm up a lot faster if you'd help me start a fire," Shiro sighs. 

Keith raises an eyebrow. "Your arm can't do that?"

Shiro shakes his head, wiggling his fingers as he raises the new arm, this one attached at the shoulder. "Not this one. The new model is meant for opening jars and shaking hands, not fighting and burning things," he points out. 

"Fair enough," Keith allows, shaking out his limbs in an effort to ward off the chill settling there. "I think I have an emergency flare we could use to light some kindling in the truck; I'll go check."

His boots crunch in the snow when he steps outside, and he has to admit, despite the frigid chill in the air, it's a beautiful location. A log cabin on a remote mountain road -- it had seemed like the perfect getaway when Shiro had proposed it. Apparently it belongs to the Holt family, and Shiro had spent a couple of spring break vacations here with Matt when they were younger. 

Spring, which it theoretically is now. Keith frowns at the layer of ice that has already formed on the windshield of his truck. The late winter storm doesn't seem to care about what season it technically is; it had blown in with its blustery winds, snow, and sleet a couple of hours before they'd creeped into the cabin's driveway. 

It had all just been a minor inconvenience until they'd realized the generator wasn't working. 

When Keith returns with the flare he'd dug up, he closes the door behind him quickly in an effort to keep out the worst of the wind. "Found it," he announces, holding up the flare. Shiro looks up with something like relief, causing Keith to feel a pang of guilt for teasing him; he knows cold makes Shiro's shoulder ache. 

It only takes a few minutes for them to get the fire going, thanks to some old newspapers and a thankfully well-stocked woodpile out back. Before they settle in front of the fire, Keith takes a moment to stash the food they'd brought with them that needed to be refrigerated on the front porch; the fridge might be out of commission, but mother nature seems more than willing to pick up the slack, with temps dropping into the low-30s. 

"It's not going to be enough to warm up the whole cabin," Shiro says regretfully from where he's squatted in front of the flames, hands outstretched in a bid to warm them up. 

"Probably not," Keith agrees. "But it'll be enough to keep us semi-comfortable as long as we stay in this room, at least until the storm's died down enough that we can make it out of here."

Shiro grimaces as he shifts to sitting cross-legged in front of the fire instead of squatting. "I'm sorry. This was my idea, and I should have-"

"What, predicted the freak snowstorm that even the meteorologists missed?" Keith asks, raising an eyebrow. "It's not your fault, Shiro. Besides, this isn't so bad," he points out. "Our goal was to get away from work and hang out, right? Mission accomplished," he says, grinning as he plants himself beside Shiro. "We've got food, fire, and blankets. We'll be fine."

* * *

The fire warms the small living room and kitchen area up pretty quickly after they drag a couple of mattresses and all the blankets out of the bedrooms and close all the doors up to the other rooms.

It's actually nice to not be at the beck and call of their electronics for a while; they turn their holopads off and set comms to emergencies only in order to conserve power, but don't find themselves lacking for things to do. They spend plenty of time talking, Shiro regaling Keith with stories of his and Matt's shenanigans when they used to stay here, and Keith telling Shiro about some of his more outrageous missions with the Blades. 

They roast hot dogs over the fire, and Keith laughs at Shiro's pout when his first one slips off into the flames. 

It's fun -- they're relaxed, not worried about war or universe-altering consequences, wearing sweats instead of uniforms or armor. They're sharing comfortable periods of silence followed by moments of helpless laughter. It's the kind of relaxed evening Keith had been longing for. 

It's also getting really, _really_ cold. 

As the sun dips behind the mountains, the temperature plunges. They keep the fire roaring, and as long as they're sitting next to it they're fine, but being even a few feet away is enough to start feeling the chill seep in. When they start getting ready to go to sleep, Keith automatically starts settling down on the mattress farthest from the fire. 

"What are you doing?" 

Keith freezes at the question. "Um… going to bed?" 

Shiro raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, I'm just wondering why you're doing that over there in the frozen tundra." 

Keith laughs. "It's not that bad. Besides, my joints can handle the cold better than yours, old-timer," he teases. 

It's a few minutes later, after they've had a proper sleepover pillow fight that cost them half the stuffing out of one pillow and possibly their dignity, that Shiro replies. "Come on, it's not like we've never crashed in the same bed before. You'll be closer to the fire and we'll both be warmer if we share all the blankets," he points out. 

Keith can't exactly _tell_ him he's terrified of waking up with a boner from sleeping next to his best friend, so he swallows down his worries and agrees. It's logical. It's sensible. It's, hopefully, not going to be incredibly awkward in the morning. 

Despite his apprehension, settling in next to Shiro is easy and comfortable, as if they've done it a thousand times before. There's no awkwardness, no moment of them lying stiff and still with several inches of space between them. Keith sleeps on his side, always has, and Shiro curls up next to him and throws an arm over Keith's waist as if it's no big deal. 

Because it isn't, Keith reminds himself. It's not a big deal. It doesn't mean anything. They're just staying warm, that's all. 

As he drifts off, though, he allows himself the illusion that they share like this every night, and that Shiro's arm around his waist is there to hold him close. 

* * *

When Keith wakes, the first thing he registers is that his face is cold. He realizes a moment later that the only reason that stands out to him is because it's the _only_ part of him that's cold, despite the fact that he can see that the fire has died down to barely more than embers over the course of the night. He's under a pile of blankets, and there's something large and warm plastered to his side. 

It takes another moment for it to register that the large warm thing is _Shiro_ , at which point Keith makes a pointed effort to stay relaxed, keeping his breaths slow and even. When they'd gone to sleep the night before, there had been a respectable few inches between them, but at some point during the night, that space had disappeared. Now, Keith is lying on his back, one arm curled around Shiro's shoulders, and Shiro is… 

Well, Shiro's got one leg shoved between Keith's knees, his left arm thrown over Keith's waist, and his face pressed into Keith's shoulder. Keith can feel Shiro's warm breath ghosting over his neck and chest, and it's all he can do to suppress a shiver, but he does it. He maintains the illusion of sleep so he can enjoy this a little longer. As soon as he moves, Shiro will wake up, and while it might not be awkward -- they're best friends, after all, and what's a little cuddling between friends? -- it'll certainly end, and he's not ready for that. 

As selfish as it is, he wants to hoard this moment, tuck it away in his memories to look at later when he's reminded that Shiro doesn't see him that way. 

He loses track of how long he lays there, but he eventually feels Shiro stirring. It happens slowly, a finger twitch against Keith's side, then a shift of his leg and a sharply indrawn breath. Shiro goes very still for a moment, and Keith wonders if Shiro is embarrassed. He keeps his eyes closed and breaths even, maintaining the illusion of sleep and giving Shiro an opportunity to slip away. 

Except he doesn't. There's a tense moment where Keith expects him to extricate himself, but instead Shiro moves his hand, slowly and carefully, up over Keith's abdomen to his chest, settling over his heart. His hand rises and falls with Keith's slow, carefully measured breaths, and Keith can feel the sweep of Shiro's lashes against his skin as he watches the movement. 

"Just one minute." The words are so soft that Keith feels the air of them across his chest more than he hears them, so soft he almost wonders if he imagined it. 

If it truly is just a minute, it's both the longest and shortest minute of Keith's life. The longest, as he tries to decide what Shiro might have meant by that, tried to figure out if the hand movement was intentional or just sleepy happenstance. The shortest, as he realizes every second that ticks past is one closer to Shiro pulling away. It's not the cold air of the cabin that he dreads.

He manages to feign sleep the whole time, though he feels as if his heart is going to gallop out of his chest. Shiro doesn't seem to notice, despite how his hand is settled right over it, lightly, as if he's afraid to disturb Keith. 

After some time has passed, Shiro sighs. The hot rush of air sends Keith's skin prickling, but he manages not to react outwardly. In the next second, however, Shiro turns his head ever so slightly, and brushes his lips over Keith's collarbone -- oh-so-lightly, but too purposeful to be mistaken for anything else, and how could he _not_ react to that? 

A pleasant shudder passes over Keith's skin, after which he instinctively tenses, a reaction he curses himself for even as it happens. Shiro goes stone-still, and a tense, brittle silence fills the room for a long moment before he speaks. 

"How long have you been awake?" Shiro's voice is controlled -- _too_ controlled, as if he's pulled on his Commanding Officer persona, an almost laughable thought as they're still tangled together under the blankets. 

"...since before you woke up," Keith admits quietly. His voice is noticeably _less_ controlled, but honestly, when has he ever been able to keep up with Shiro?

There's another long moment of silence. Shiro swallows hard enough that the click of his throat almost seems thunderous in the quiet room, and then he carefully pulls away. Keith winces at the rush of cold air as Shiro exits the blankets, but he doesn't hesitate to sit up, watching on worriedly as Shiro shuffles to sit on the end of the mattress.

"Shiro, I'm sorry," Keith starts. "I didn't mean to-" 

"No, Keith, God," Shiro interrupts, scowling. " _I_ owe _you_ an apology. That was… a violation of your personal space, at the very least," he says slowly, not meeting Keith's eyes. 

It's the expression of _shame_ on Shiro's face that does it. Like he'd done anything Keith wouldn't have begged for, had he known it was on the table. Like Keith hadn't basically done the same thing by pretending to sleep in order to draw out the contact. 

"Maybe I don't want you to apologize for it," he says, adrenaline suddenly thrumming in his veins stronger than any cliff jump could cause. Shiro looks up, something like confusion in his eyes. "Maybe I'd rather you did more." 

Shiro's mouth opens, then closes, as if reconsidering his words. He does that twice more before he finally speaks. "You said I was your brother," he says quietly. 

It takes Keith a moment to remember when he'd said that, and when he does, his eyes widen. "You never told me you remembered that," he said. "You- you said it was all flashes, bits and pieces-"

Shiro has the grace to look a little sheepish. "That was an important piece." 

"Not as important as you're trying to make it," Keith retorts. "I was- God, Shiro, I was trying to get through to you, and I didn't have time to _think_. And," he adds, "I think I was still trying to figure out at that point exactly what I was feeling." 

A stillness falls over Shiro and Keith has a moment for the adrenaline to flag, for him to reflect on what he'd just said, and he feels a cold finger of fear run down his spine. If he'd misjudged what had happened, he could have just ruined everything. 

"What were you feeling, Keith?" Shiro asks, finally looking up to meet Keith's eyes head-on. 

"I- I mean, I-" Keith stumbles over his words, that spike of fear slowly overriding everything. They'd come too far to back down, though, and he trusts Shiro to make this okay, even if it doesn't go the way he hopes. "It's hard being in love with your best friend," Keith finally says, laughing a bit wetly as he looks down at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap. "You get so used to hiding it that when you _want_ to say it, it doesn't come out right." 

Shiro huffs out a laugh and Keith briefly hears the blankets rustling before Shiro's hand covers Keith's. "I can relate," he says quietly. Keith looks up, and _oh_ , he's so close, his eyes wide and hopeful. He leans in close, but hesitates, as if unwilling to close that final gap after the morning's misunderstanding, but it's okay; Keith is more than willing to do it for him. 

The kiss isn't fireworks and explosions, it's coming home. It's a perfect fit finally clicking into place, the calm in a storm, warmth with an underlying heat that promises more. 

When they finally part, Keith doesn't let Shiro get far; he tugs him back under the blankets despite his half-hearted protests that he needs to build up the fire. 

"We will," Keith promises. "In a few minutes. Just… let me have this, first. Please?" 

A few minutes turns into an hour, but it works out okay; turns out they're perfectly capable of keeping each other warm.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/B1ackPa1adins) for fic threads, keysmashing, and lots of crying over these good good boys.


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